nd me. This must be added to the two things I have
already told thee of, that would take away the salt!"

Narrowly the Master eyed him, then nodded. Huge though this rebuff
had been, and great as the loss must be, the Master realized the utter
impossibility of coming to any terms with Bara Miyan on a gold basis.
All the fanaticism of these people would resist this, to the death.
Even to insist further might precipitate a massacre. Therefore, like
the philosopher he was, he turned to other possibilities, considering
what was best to be done.

The Olema spoke again, pausing now and then as he puffed reflectively
at his water-pipe. Said he:

"I will tell thee a great secret, O Frank. In this city lie the lost
books of the Arwam (Greek) wise men and poets. When the Alexandrian
library was burned by Amrou, at Omar's order, the four thousand baths
of the city were heated for six months by ancient scrolls. I have
heard that ye Feringi have greatly mourned the loss of the Arwam
learning and poetry. Not all this treasure was lost, White Sheik!"

The Master started, peered at Bara Miyan and forgot to chew his
soothing khat leaves.

"And then--?" asked he.

"Some twenty thousand of the most precious parchments were privately
carried by our _Sufis_ to Medina, and thence, after many years, to
Jannati Shahr. Here they still lie, in perfect form, clearly to be
read. This is a treasure that would set the world of the Feringi
ablaze and make thee as a god among thy people. Ask this gift,
O Frank, and it shall be granted thee! For the mere asking, this
treasure shall be thine!"

The Master shook his head. Deeply as he understood the incalculable
value of the lost books of antiquity, he well knew that to offer his
Legion such a booty would be all in vain. Men who have suffered and
bled, risked all, seen their comrades die, and even now stand in
the shadow of death--hoping some vast, tangible loot--are not proper
material for discussion of literary values.

"_Yafta Allah!_" the Master exclaimed, with emphasis equal to the
Olema's. "No, Bara Miyan, this cannot be."

"Our dancing and singing maidens are like a flame of Paradise. Their
enchantments make the heart of man glad with perpetual springtime.
Choose, O Frank, two handmaids for thyself and for each of thy men,
and let them be yours to go with you to your own country and to be
your chattels and your sweet delights!"

The eyes of "Captain Alden" narrowed with sudden, painfu